Despite his attempts at projecting a calm, more sophisticated exterior, Jean-Baptiste was quite impatient and erratic and did things as the mood struck him, dropping things quite suddenly and for little to no discernible reason and even doing the exact opposite not long after at times. Bored, antsy, annoyed at the abstinence forced upon him and unable to sleep because of the goddamn noise in the goddamn helicarrier, he decided he was gonna go for a walk and maybe see what Bob was up to, he was perhaps the one person Jean-Baptiste could tolerate in the entire ship. Pocketing his knife and practically slamming his beret down on his head, though the shades were left forgotten in his nightstand, he hastily exited his room, giving the automatic sliding door a swift punt that served little purpose but letting him vent out his pent-up agressions on being stuck without any good entertainment in a flying, oversized tincan.

"HEY BOB, DID YOU SWITCH ROOMS AGAIN" he yelled in the hallway as the door closed behind him, his voice resonating within the cramped, metallic confines. He'd already spent a good 5 minutes of his life pounding on doors to what he had known to be Bob's room a day before, only for the man to turn up elsewhere, having decided to move for no discernible reason. Jean-Baptiste figured it was a thing from having grown up without much.